quasi_sean

few feet from the borderline.

so she makes shadow puppets
on a wall in the north

changing smiles to the laughter of love.

i see
absolution
in her lips
in the red
mind left
reeling in the whirlpool

she holds my hand thruout the walk
pointing out the art of evening
sounds
oh, mysterious
music in my heart.

while she sleeps
i keep watch
from afar

in that moment before death
i'll chase her one last time
w/one last beautiful
image
of December.

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to her.

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interesting the way the sun refuses to dim.